


so many pretty things

by bastapasta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts Second Year, Knitting, One Shot, Slice of Life, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastapasta/pseuds/bastapasta
Summary: Harry stays at the burrow for the rest of the summer before going back to Hogwarts for his second year. And it's strange, because he's not used to big and loud families. And he doesn't feel like he should be here... until he sit next to Molly one day to look as she knit. And she decide, like it's a casual and easy thing, to teach him.This shouldn't affect him so much, but it changes everything.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	so many pretty things

**Author's Note:**

> english isn't my first language and i don't know/understand everything about the hp universe (only watched movies 1 to 3) but have a friend i can ask about that stuff so there shouldn't be too much inaccuracies other than the way i chose to depict the character, let's hope!
> 
> that aside, this fic is VERY self indulgent (what fic isn't) and caters to 11 y/o me specifically. added knitting to the mix cause it's a fun hobby but, while i researched the english terms for it, not sure i'm using them right lol. if it doesn't make much sense, just pretend you don't know anything about knitting, like harry, and that's why!
> 
> (i do not support rowling)

Harry was grateful. Really he was!

Neither Ron nor his brothers had to do anything for him. But they found themselves worried enough to check on him, and get him out of his uncle’s house. Harry’s chest felt heavy, recalling this. How stunned seeing his best friend and the twins faces at his window had left him. They had to pull him out of there because he forgot how to move.

He truly felt like he had been saved.

A bit like princesses in fairy tales. Which was a very embarrassing comparizon to make for himself.

But well. Now seated in the kitchen, helping Molly by pelling potatoes before passing them to Ginny so she could wash them, he felt a bit uncomfortable.

Like he shouldn’t be here.

Even though he had been invited.

The burrow wasn’t exactly small, Harry thought it was just a bit bigger than his uncle’s place, but at privet drive there were four of them, and this house had to be shared between… he counted on his finger. The Weasleys had seven children, but two of them he hadn’t met since they were adults and lived away. Still that made five kids + the parents + Harry now…

And only one bathroom.

Ron had assured him it was alright as he had layed a camp-bed next to his own. The parents had offered him one of the room not occupied at the moment, but Ron had insisted they would share his, which Harry was glad for. Taking someone else bed just because they weren’t there felt rude, and he was used to Ron presence at night, and his heavy breathing, and his tossing wildly in bed, from their time in the dorms.

Ginny excused herself once the washing was done, and looked at Harry in a funny way passing him.

He just stayed there, not really sure what to do.

Molly was humming softly while cooking and it was nice.

It felt weird to not help more than that. No one had even asked him in the first place. Ron was trying to teach him to play chess but Harry had a hard time grasping the rules, when the twins interrupted them. Apparently he had taken something out of their room, or so they accused, and Fred (or was it George) held Ron’s face under his arm to keep him in place while George (or maybe Fred) tickled his sides as a form torture to make him confess. Harry had thought it was maybe, at least hopefully, a normal things for siblings to do, and escaped the scene, before landing in the kitchen.

Tapping his legs lightly following the rythm of Molly’s tune, he was surprised when she stopped and looking up saw her jump when she had turned his way.

"Oh, Harry dear! I didn’t know you were still here! You can go have fun now, thank you for your help, sweetie!" she told him with a smile and he decided he really liked her voice.

The way she always called him nice names, just like she did her children, and how she never shied away from saying thank you and sorry even though he was a child and he didn’t know many adults who did that.

Seeing him only stare and not make a movement to leave, she sighed without loosing her smile and asked "Well? Do you want to help with advanced cooking then?"

She had said ‘advanced’ with force in her voice, like it was serious buisness, and maybe Harry was let in a secret just then. Like she didn’t make that proposition to just anyone. That gave Harry a timid smile. He didn’t think himself too bad of a cook so surely he could take this on.

Following her to the oven, she gave him instructions, and he followed with precaution. Giving her glances when he wasn’t sure of something, in exchange receiving firm nods when it was good or an helping hand when it wasn’t so much.

Molly announced proudly dinner tonight was half done by Harry when everyone was seated, and Harry blushed, looking down to his hands, because that was an exaggerated claim really, but Arthur let out an impressed ‘oooh’ while the twins asked if anything was poisoned and Molly retorted that it was for them to find out, which they took as a challenge, and Ron patted his shoulder by his side and from the other Ginny gave him a smile. It felt nice, so Harry thought maybe it was ok for him to be here.

The next morning his suspicion of the one bathroom situation revealed itself true.

He really needed to pee but Ginny was already screaming to the one inside to get out while banging on the door, and soon Ron just stood behind him, the three of them already forming a waiting line.

How did they manage that every day? And how will he?!

It started raining lightly not long after breakfast, and the other kids let a heavy sigh in unison. They had decided over toasts and marmalade that they would get their brooms and go play a modified version of quidditch that worked well enough with a lesser number of players in the garden later. Now that plan was ruined, which gave Ginny the worst mood as she couldn’t stand staying inside doing nothing.

Harry didn’t really see where the problem was, because their house was incredible. With none of the furnitures matching each other, and the clashing colors. He couldn’t get bored just looking around. But maybe that was just the novelty of it, and for someone who grew up here it was nothing to get excited over.

He tried not to feel bitter at that. Harry didn’t want to be jealous, it was too negative, and they had let him stay here, and he was grateful… but he grew in a cupboard. Spending most of the year in school was a gift he had never dreamed to ask for, that only threw him back to the Dursleys for a few months, but they had thought he got cocky in his time away so they had been even colder than usual. He was so scared of going back there again. It was fine when he was younger, as Harry hadn’t know anything else. But with knowledge came pain.

Each kid chose an activity, and Harry avoided Ron’s attempt at putting him in front of the chess board again. Looking was fun because of the faces his friend made but playing was too confusing for him. So instead he was standing in front of the bookcase in the living room, reading the titles of the books there, sometimes pulling one to get more informations from the cover and summary, in cases where there was one.

The Weasley collection was funny from the sheer varity of it. Even if you visited the house without knowing who lived here, a glance at the bookcase was all you would need to guess at a large number of residents with a large number of interests.

So different from the Durleys who sure had lots of books on display, but stuck behind glass, discouraging you to browse, and he doubted neither of the adults had read any of it. It only served to look smart when they invited people home.

Molly passed behind him to sit on the sofa, asking what he was looking for.

"Nothing in particular, just looking..."

She bent over to grab wool from a basket at her feet and started knitting really fast. Harry was distracted by the movement of her hands. She wasn’t even looking down at what she was doing, he noticed, when he saw her staring at him. Always smiling.

He thought.

‘Oh’

Is this what moms feel like?

And overwhelmed by this simple thing, this nothing of a thought, really it should be obvious without some sort of epiphany, his eyes feel on his shoes, too embarrassed to look at her now.

Molly stopped in her knitting and patted the seat next to her. Harry didn’t even think of finding an excuse to leave and simply sat down. The cushions were flattened by use.

"What would you want next time?" she asked, resuming her work.

"Sorry?"

"Since I already made you a jumper!"

He didn’t know if he could ever thank her enough for it. After all, it had been the first time someone had ever made something for him. Just for him. Something new, and warm, and right for his size. Harry didn’t even know how long it took to finish. And she had so many children to think of, and still…

But well, looking at how fast she was going on her current project, maybe she was able to make a few of them in only a day. That was impressive!

"Um… a scarf?"

She hummed a bit and said "And the color?"

A simple question, but quite overwhelming for Harry. He got to choose!

When Molly looked up to see what was taking him so long to answer, his expression must have been really funny, because she suddenly started to laugh. Loudly. Head thrown back and everything.

"Oh, Harry..." she gasped in between laughs "you can just go with your favorite color, it’s fine!"

Once calmed down, she went on about how difficult each of her children could get, in unique ways. Ginny changed her mind regularly and on ridiculous details at that. No this pink doesn’t work, she asked for a shade lighter, geez mom! The twins were always playing with her by asking different colors but with their initials on it, then complain dramatically she put the F on George’s order and the G on Fred’s. But she had taken notes specially not to make that mistake so she was sure they were lying. Not that it mattered anyway, as they switched clothes without worrying about letters. Ron was the worst offender has he was never happy, no matter what she did. Ugh, kids!

Percy seemed the easiest to content.

"Is it hard?" Harry asked, and after she hummed her incomprehension "To knit letters."

"Well! It takes training, but I’ve been doing that for, oof! So many years now, it’s second nature!"

"That’s really cool..." he said softly, meaning it.

She smiled, thanking him, which accentuated the wrinkles around her mouth making her face looks even more friendly, and open, and warm, and suddenly Harry was confused as to why people disliked wrinkles so much. His aunt kept complaining about them, buying different creams, always liking best compliments that comfirmed how young she looked. But at the same time, she didn’t have the same wrinkles as Molly. The creases on aunt Petunia’s face showed how often she frowned, not smiled.

Anyway, Molly was pretty and nice, and he wondered if his own mother would have looked at him like that, with a wrinkled smile to show how happy she was and...

"So?"

"Uh?"

"The color, silly!"

Harry hesitated a bit more. It’s not that he wanted to be annoying, he just didn’t know. Any color would be fine, really. He would treasure it all the same. So he bent down to take a peek at the basket full of the stuff. Following his eyes, Molly pushed the basket over him with her foot, and he dipped his hands in it to help him make a choice. Some of the yarn was soft, and some was a bit prickly. Some thread strand was tick, while some was thin. He didn’t know there was so many different types.

He finally chose a light purple he thought the feel of was nice, and imagined what it would be like to dip his nose in a scarf made of it.

"This one then?" Molly asked, and he nodded.

Ball of yarn in hand to stroke because it was quite soft, Harry tried to focus on Molly’s movements. The needles were so hard to follow! There was some kind of pattern repeated there but too fast for Harry to discern the shape of it. Molly finished a line, switched needles in her hands, and started a new one. His eyes soon felt tired trying to get something out of it. He rubbed them and hoped he wouldn’t sound rude.

"Can you go slowly?"

Molly didn’t look annoyed and without a word, slowed down progressively. Harry was now frowning, concentrating his whole attention on this. The pattern was visible but… it was so complicated! He couldn’t understand how she didn’t loose the line she was on.

"What is it gonna be?"

"A hat. I’ll add a pompom on it later on!"

"Oh, cute..." the frown returned "how do you make a pompom?"

"Stick with me and I’ll show you!"

So he did. Asking questions from time to time. Like how come the rim of the hat looked so different from the rest of it? And Molly explained everything. That’s how he learned there’s was lots of stitches one could master, which all had their own look. The most simple looked like how girls would braid their long hair at school. Harry had always thought it nice how friends would propose to braid each other hair in between class, all while talking. It felt really gentle. And distant, also. As if they had created their own world and decided to ignore everyone else because they simply didn’t matter. But what a nice bubble…

Oh, but he wasn’t jealous! Tried not to be, at least.

True, he had wished to have something similar… or someone. Just. Some place to belong. Where it was natural and expected for him to be there. Where touch was soft and warm and welcome. Like wool.

Soon enough, Molly finished the hat. There was just some stiching to do to pull it all together and give it a good shape, which she achieved in no time.

"Now for the pompom!" she said with a wink for Harry.

She wrapped the yarn around two of her fingers. Repeating the process, over and over, until she had a good chunk of that loop. Then she pulled scissors from her basket and cut through the ring of yarn. Tying the whole thing together in the middle. Harry was confused on how it held up like that. But there it was! Pretty little pompom.

Molly only had to attach it then.

"There!" 

She presented it to Harry, who held the hat in his hands like a treasure.

And it was. To be able able to create something like that… or anything, really, feels magical. If brewing potions was an art, then so must be knitting. Harry wouldn’t let anyone tell him otherwise now that he had witnessed it. Molly had extended his world just a bit more on that day, and he was grateful for it.

"I’d love to be able to do that..." he heard himself say, still staring at the hat in awe.

"I could teach you." came the reply. Making it sound way simpler than it at all looked.

"Uh? I don’t think… I mean it looks hard…"

Molly smiled gently. Like he had said the silliest thing, but in a cute way. The same way adults look at toddlers who are still learning how to talk. They put words together, and act like it makes total sense, but it really doesn’t. And instead of correcting them, the adults just laugh and encourage them to talk some more.

"Don’t worry, you have time to learn before school start! And it’s not like I expect you to become a pro by then! We’ll go slowly, what do you say?"

"I… would love that."

Her smile grew wider "It’s decided then!"

She took the purple wool still on his laps, and looked for more balls of yarn of the same color in the basket. Deciding three of them would be enough, she turned to Harry.

"Scarves are perfect for beginners!"

Changing needles for some reason, she started doing one line. Slowly. Bending a bit closer to him so Harry could see better.

"I’m doing the cast on right now. It’s the base. After that you can go on normally."

Doing a few more lines as an example, she then gave the needles to Harry, who didn’t feel ready for it yet. But Molly was reassuring. Promising he couldn’t do any mistake that she wouldn’t be able to fix. And that mistakes were a natural part of learning, so he shouldn’t be embarrassed by it.

The logic of that, he understood. But it was hard to control his feelings. Or his hands. He could tell he was gripping the needles too tight. It almost hurt. Molly said it was ok. His form would improve without him even noticing. They could undo it all and start over later if he didn’t like the result. It was fine. Nothing to worry about. He’ll get it right eventually.

Her words ended up soothing him. So much he didn’t realize when it was getting late, until Molly got up to make dinner.

Harry decided to help her because 1. knitting alone was still too scary, and 2. he just wanted to spend more time with her, really.

"Charlie was the only one of my children who got interested in knitting." she told him while chopping vegetables "I had forgotten how nice it was to teach… so thank you, Harry dear!"

Molly kept on talking about her family, Harry’s answering with nods and some humming there and there. It was all interesting to hear, really, but he had no idea what to say. No nice anecdotes of his own to add to the conversation. So he let her voice wrap him. The kitchen got all warm and soft and safe as she went on and on and on. He really didn’t want it to end.

Time didn’t agree with him, sadly, and the meal got cooked. Molly called for everyone to come sit at the long table in the kitchen. As it was usual here, people served themselves loudly, with laughter and nudges.

Ron asked him what he’d been up to all day, looking like an hamster with his mouth full, and Harry wondered for a second if he should keep it to himself. Not that it had to be a secret. But what if it was silly and Ron was in the mood to make fun of him?

That split second doubt was the only silly thing between them, he thought, looking at Ron questioning eyes. He knew his friend wasn’t the type. It was rude of Harry, actually, to doubt him in that way. Hard habit to kill. So he told him, and Ron only nodded before returning his full attention to his plate.

Of course. Why would he bat an eye to it when Charlie had learned before him?

With Molly as their mom… the only choice the Weasley children had was to grow up into an incredibly kind person. The realization hitting Harry on that moment. Looking at all the red heads around him.

How lucky he was to be here.

To have Ron for a friend. The twins to watch over them like chaotic angels. Percy doing the same while following the rules. Ginny who would join them this year. With still Bill and Charlie to meet, who, if the stories were true (and why wouldn’t they be) ought to be interesting as well.

And of course, Arthur and Molly Weasley. Who treated him like they had gained another child.

It was the first time this had ever happened to him, and Harry was so grateful. That it had been them. And him. And here. In this moment. What incredible luck!

The rest of the summer felt like a breeze. Days passing by so fast, it was already time to go back to Hogwarts.

Harry had only time to get used to the burrow and the atmosphere here, the family and their habits, and more importantly… to finish the scarf he was now wearing around his neck, though untied because they were still inside, in front of the chimney. The family deciding to floo their way to the station.

It was a strange feeling. The year prior, Hogwarts had been his sanctuary. Now though… he wasn’t as willing to go back.

Not that he didn’t like it there! It was still an incredible place! Literally. He still had a hard time believing it was all real. Leaving the burrow just… squeezed at his heart.

And Molly squeezed his shoulder.

He turned to face her once Ron had disappeared. The expression on her face was hard to read. Lips pinched and eyebrows unsure on what to do.

"Harry," she said "I want you to know you’re always welcome here. No matter what, no matter when."

Arthur nodded next to her. Ginny the last of the remaining children, powder in hand, waited to see what would happen. Harry found it hard to breath.

"As far as I’m concerned," chimed in her husband "you’re part of the family now."

"Thank you." Harry had only been able to say weakly after a moment.

Deciding it was enough, the adults pushed him after Ginny.

At the station Harry found Ron again, who smiled at him. His was very similar to Molly’s, he just noticed then. He was her son so it made sense they looked alike, but, still.

Harry hoped this smile would follow him all his life.

So, without fully realizing what he was doing, his hand slipped in Ron’s own.

And Ron only looked surprised for a second, looking at their hands, then to Harry’s face. He squeezed them tighter together, offering Harry an even bigger smile.

So Harry smiled in return. A more timid one, for sure, but he was still learning. To show himself as he is, good and bad, mistakes and successes. And to let the world in. Allowing small kindness to get to him without jumping in fear. It was a process.

But already he was able to see so many pretty things around him.

Like the scarf he had been scared to ruin and had to redo a couple of times before getting it right. Which was now proudly hanging around his neck. Not prefect, but pretty noneless.

Harry was grateful. Really he was!


End file.
